


Hills We've Climbed

by hellosterek



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, Writer!Derek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 13:46:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3136649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellosterek/pseuds/hellosterek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek is a rich author who only wants to provide for his mother. In order to do that, he has to write more novels to make money. Erica Reyes and Lydia Martin won't stop hounding him about manuscripts and public appearances that he really doesn't want to do. His life is a mess...why would he add romance into the mix? Too bad his agent and publicist didn't get that memo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hills We've Climbed

**Author's Note:**

> Derek was late. Derek was late and his balls were going to be served on a silver platter to the next person who ever crossed Erica Elizabeth Reyes. At least, that was what the text she sent to Derek fifteen minutes ago said. Derek sighed and slouched back in the driver’s seat, tapping his thumb impatiently against the steering wheel of his black camaro. Studio City may not be as busy as central Los Angeles, but it was still considered the Beverly Hills of the San Fernando Valley and during the summer it was packed with tourists. Not only were the trails of Wilacre Park and Fryman Canyon crawling with hikers, the streets and sidewalks were overflowing with shoppers. And of course Erica’s office had to be located in the middle of all the commotion on Ventura Boulevard, where upscale boutiques drew upscale shoppers with their upscale (read: overpriced) products.

So, maybe Derek was a little bitter about where he lived, but for all his bitterness he actually liked Studio City. Even though business picked up during the summer, the neighborhood wasn’t anywhere near as busy as Beverly Hills or Hollywood. The most action the neighborhood ever really saw was a few blocks away at the Big Brother house or at the CBS Studio center. Occasionally, there’d be some scandal about what some passerby may or may not have seen at George Clooney’s house as they made their way out of Fryman Canyon Park, but otherwise the place was pretty peaceful. Derek liked it that way. He liked the peace and quiet. All the people crossing the street where there was no crosswalk and all the cars stopping and going all the time...he could probably do without.

Before his blood pressure could get too high, Derek finally pulled into the private parking lot outside Erica’s office and took a moment to compose himself. From what she’d said on the phone, her and Lydia weren’t too happy with him. He didn’t understand why. He hadn’t done anything to make them angry. He had been extra cautious to keep both his agent and his publicist in good graces. Although, perhaps Lydia was upset that in order to stay in her good graces, he chose not to make a public appearance in two whole months. What could he say? He liked his privacy. But Lydia didn’t seem to care about that.

He didn’t even have the chance to apologize for being late before a pile of magazines were dumped into his lap when he took a seat in Erica’s office. He jerked in surprise, glancing down at them before lifting a skeptical eyebrow at his publicist. Lydia Martin returned the gesture and pouted her lips. “Take a look through those, Hale.”

He briefly flipped through the top two and let out a frustrated breath. “What am I supposed to be seeing? I’m not in any of these.”

“Exactly!” Lydia exclaimed, crossing her arms and leaning against Erica’s desk. “You’re not in any of those!”

Erica pursed her lips at Lydia and frowned at Derek, almost guiltily sliding a manila folder across the desk. She opened it and showed him the chart. “This shows the profit we’ve been getting off your books within the past six months.” With her pen, she followed the line as it fell gradually before levelling off completely. She flicked her gaze back up to him. “We’re not making any money off you, Derek.”

“We need more,” Lydia stated simply, tapping a freshly manicured nail against her bicep. “We need another manuscript.”

Derek sighed and dropped the magazines on the desk, pushing his glasses up and pinching at the bridge of his nose. He shook his head, wishing they could go back to the time when writers weren’t considered celebrities. “I’m trying, alright? I’m not inspired.”

Lydia scoffed, straightening up and grabbing her jacket off the back of Erica’s chair. She fixed Derek with a dull look. “Get inspired, Hale, or we’re going to have to drop you as a client.”

With a nod in Erica’s direction and a glare toward Derek, Lydia picked up her magazines and stuffed them back into her suitcase, snapping it shut before leaving the office. Once alone, Erica let out a huff of air, blowing hair from her face as she slouched back. She smiled at Derek sympathetically. “As much as I hate to say it, she’s right. We need another book from you, Derek. Otherwise, what are we doing here?”

Derek frowned and ran a hand over his face. “I don’t know what else to do, Erica. The inspiration just isn’t coming to me like it usually does.”

Her gaze softened as she sat forward in her chair, steepling her fingers together. “Maybe instead of waiting for inspiration to come, you should chase after it instead.”

His frown deepened. “What does that even mean?”

She shrugged. “It means, find something to write about and write about it.” Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she fiddled with a pen on her desk, eyeing him closely. “Look, I don’t even care what it is. Knowing your fan base, they’ll buy anything with your name on it. Just...try harder, okay? I don’t want to have to walk away from you.”

With his eyes falling closed momentarily, he nodded. “Can I go?”

When he opened his eyes, it was to her frown, but she nodded. “Yeah.” She watched closely as he scrambled to his feet and shrugged into his jacket. Just as he was about to walk out of her office, he heard her, “And Derek, please don’t half-ass it this time. We really do need something before the publisher finds someone new to invest in. They won’t wait forever, you know.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

She pursed her lips at him, but waved him out of the room. “Good luck.”

He feigned a smile and slipped out of the room with a mumbled thanks, knowing that he was going to need all the luck in the world to write up a brand new manuscript or at least an acceptable pitch. In all honesty, he hadn’t written anything in months. It wasn’t so much that he hadn’t been trying, because he had, but he’d gotten so distracted by other things. Taking care of his mother and trying to deal with his own personal problems was turning out to be quite the struggle. Even though he’d hired a helping hand with his mother, it never seemed to relieve any of the pressure.

When Derek was 14, he lost his father and both of his sisters, Emily and Paige, to a sudden house fire. His mother, Talia, had gone back to save Paige’s life and got caught beneath a fallen column. The weight of the column cut off the mobility of her legs, effectively paralyzing her from the waist down. As his mother lay there helpless, rubble had fallen from the second floor, falling into her eyes and damaging her corneas. Although she could still see, anything that was too far from her face was a mere shadow. Derek had pushed for her to get surgery, but his mother refused, telling him not to waste their money on something she could live without.

Derek doesn’t like to think about what might have happened to his mother if he had been home that night instead of at a friend’s house. He doesn’t like to imagine who would be the one taking care of her, holding her hand on the particularly troublesome nights, or who would have crawled into bed with her and held her on the anniversary of the fire. He also doesn’t like to think about what he would have done if she hadn’t survived. Although he had to sacrifice the majority of his childhood for her, and put up with his uncle Peter for years in order to settle the legal dispute of who would take care of Derek, he was still thankful to have her. She was the only family he had left. At least, the only family left that didn’t call once a year just to con money out of him.

After spending the majority of his teenage years getting bossed around by Peter and taking care of his mother, Derek moved him and his mother out of Peter’s home as soon as he turned eighteen. The two of them didn’t have much and had to survive on what was left over of the insurance money and the unemployment checks his mother got once a month. Taking care of his mother became his full time job. As much as he loved her, taking care of her became overwhelming and there were days when her mood was especially bad. On those days, he usually left her alone and locked himself in his bedroom. Without much else to do, Derek began to write about his experiences. On a whim, Derek sent what he’d written to a local publishing house. Within the next year, Derek’s book was on the New York Time's Best Seller list. Little did the public know, what he’d written wasn’t entirely fictional, but was inspired by his mother and deceased siblings.

Derek became more private after that, writing about things less familiar to him, but always including a little bit of himself or his family in his characters. He liked to write about Emily and Paige the most. He found that writing about them helped keep their memory alive and his mother always seemed to love those characters the most. After having his novels adapted to film, Derek became overwhelmed with his success. He bought a new home for him and his mother, moving them out of their small town apartment and into a big city bungalow with a large garden and inground pool. He hired a butler to do the cooking and cleaning and an RN to help take care of his mother. Despite all the new things he bought for himself, like his camaro and the boat he kept docked at the marina a few miles away, nothing made him happier than being able to provide better care for his mother. Because Derek, who would never complain about the extra work, was just a little tired. At the age of 25, Derek was already _tired_.

Tossing his car keys into the bowl by the door, Derek slipped out of his shoes and stifled a yawn. He really would have thought he’d be used to the neighborhood by now, but the fast-pace of the summer season always seemed to wear him out. Running a hand through his hair, Derek made his way toward the back of the house, passing through the den that had walls lined with bookshelves and bookshelves clean of dust. He made a mental note to thank Harris for that later.

Hearing soft voices from his mother’s room, Derek stopped in the doorway and leaned against the wooden frame. Cora Libby, the RN Derek hired a little over a year ago, sat at his mother’s bedside. Sitting in simple jeans and a t-shirt with her black hair pulled back into a ponytail, Cora read aloud from one of the books Derek had bought for Christmas. His mom laid in her bed, her eyes closed and chest moving steadily, as she listened. Derek smiled sadly at the sight of them. It hadn’t been that long ago that he had been the one sitting at his mother’s bedside, reading to her as she fell asleep. His mom seemed weaker now, tiring easily. The doctors told him it was bound to happen where she was bedridden -- her bones would deteriorate faster and her muscles would start to fail. He just wished he didn't have to see her downward spiral.

“Derek, is that you?”

Pulling himself from his thoughts, Derek lifted his eyebrows and offered his mom a pleasant smile, making his way into the room. He smiled at Cora, squeezing her shoulder as he passed by to kiss his mom on the cheek. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Oh, nonsense.” Talia squeezed his hand, palming at his face with her other. “I’ve always got time for you. How did your meeting go?”

Derek tried not to let the exhaustion show on his face as he feigned a smile and a shrug. “It went well, like most meetings. It’s all business.”

Talia furrowed her eyebrows and frowned, running her thumb over her son’s knuckles. “And business isn’t doing well?”

Derek sighed, hating how well his mother could read him. He waved her off and adjusted his glasses. “Business is business. They want me to work on another manuscript.”

“And you don’t want to?” she questioned curiously.

He shook his head. “It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s that I’m not inspired enough to write one.”

Talia frowned in thought, eventually nodding as she settled back against her pillow. She hid a yawn behind her hand before clearing her throat. “It will come to you, dear. Just be patient.”

Derek frowned, not having the heart to tell her that his publishers weren’t going to wait that long. He leaned forward and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. “I will, mom. Thank you. You need your rest. Get some sleep, okay?”

She nodded drowsily and settled down against her pillows, her eyes drifting closed as soon as Derek released her hand.

Derek turned to Cora, who bookmarked the page in their book and quietly set it down on the nightstand before following him out. Once in the hallway, Cora nudged him in the stomach with her elbow. Derek jumped away from her and scowled, rubbing at his side. “What?”

Cora rolled her eyes and beckoned him into the den. For a 5’6” 20-year-old female, Cora was pretty intimidating. She reminded him a lot of Paige, who had wrestled with him (and won) a lot more than he was willing to admit.

“They’re right, you know,” Cora lectured, collapsing sideways into a chair with her feet over the arm.

She’d already had this talk with Derek before about inspiration and just letting it come to him. Derek knew perfectly well that she thought it was bullshit, but he also knew she didn’t understand what it was like to be a writer.

Cora shot him a pointed look, like she knew exactly what was going through his mind. “You’re never going to write another book if you just sit around and wait for something to happen. You’re becoming a nobody, Derek.”

“Wow,” Derek mumbled, raising his eyebrows sarcastically and leaning against the doorframe. “Thanks.”

She rolled her eyes at him, pulling out her phone. “Look, I’m just saying. You want writing to be your career, so that means you have to actually _write_ something. You can’t really afford to just sit around and wait for something to come to you.” She glanced up at him, her expression softer. “Just don’t wait too long, okay? Your mom worries about you.”

Derek frowned, staring at the wall behind her and nodding. He knew that. He knew that his mother worried about him. He also knew that he needed to get some writing done to be considered a writer. This was the career he chose for himself, the one that fit his lifestyle so well and the one that he was actually good at. But, still, there seemed to be something standing in his way. He just couldn’t figure out why no stories were coming to him.

Sighing, Derek mumbled a half-hearted thank you and headed for his office down the hall. He closed the mahogany door behind him and collapsed into his leather computer chair, glancing at the scatter of papers on his desk. It wasn’t even like he hadn’t been trying to write. The majority of the papers in front of him contained scribbled notes and story ideas. The problem was, whenever he tried to write them they never came out the way he wanted. There was always something a little off or something that didn’t feel right to him. Perhaps Erica was right. Maybe he just needed to stop thinking about it so much and just pick something to write about.

Shifting through his notes, he groaned. None of these were good enough. Fishing his phone from his pocket, Derek pulled up Erica’s name, shooting her a text. She was always the one he contacted when he hit a road block. She was also the one who always threatened to kick his ass if he didn’t write a certain word amount by the end of the week. He never really tested her on her ass-kicking ability, but he was pretty sure she could take him.

Within seconds, Derek’s phone was ringing and he grimaced, answering the call. “Hell-”

“No,” Erica bit out. “Don’t you _hello_ me when we just had a meeting a little over an hour ago about this. I told you to pick something and _write_ about it, Hale. And I know that you have a mess of notes on your desk. Go through them, find something workable and _work_ on it. I know you’re a little rusty, so I’ll go easy on you. I want 5,000 words and a workable summary by the end of the week, no excuses. The promise I made about your balls being served on a platter still stands.”

Derek sighed. “Technically, it was a silver platter.”

“Derek,” Erica hissed.

“Fine,” he laughed, shifting through the papers on his desk. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“That’s all I ask,” she said kindly before hanging up on him.

He frowned and pulled the phone away from his ear, tossing it onto his desk. Running a hand over his face, he scooted his chair forward and got to work. At the rate he was going, though, he would never have the best seller that Erica and his publishers were hoping for.

* * *

Derek spent the next hour and a half trying to flesh out a couple of ideas he’d had so he could compare them. So far, neither looked too promising, but at least it was something.

“Derek?” There was a knock at the door and it swung open slowly. Cora peeked her head in with a small smile, her eyes floating to the stack of papers in front of him. “I see that you’re working so diligently,” she started sarcastically, knowing him well enough to know he hadn’t gotten much done at all. “But dinner is ready.”

Derek sighed and tossed his pencil onto his desk, squeezing the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb. He was starting to get a migraine from trying to decipher the notes he’d made all those months ago. He knew there was something to be said about his handwriting when not even he could read it.

“Alright,” Derek huffed, pushing himself to his feet to follow Cora out to the garden. Seeing his mom already sitting there, soaking up what was left of the evening sunlight, soothed his anxiety and he smiled. Squeezing his mother’s shoulders from behind, he bent down to drop a kiss to her cheek before taking his place beside her.

“It’s beautiful out today,” Talia sighed happily, squeezing her son’s hand.

Derek snorted, but squeezed her hand. “I know. It’s drawing out all the tourists and summer shoppers.”

His mother hummed in reply, watching him as he shifted in his seat. “How is your writing going, dear?”

He licked his lips with a shrug, watching as Cora jumped from her seat to help their butler, Adrian Harris, carry their dinner to the table. “It’s going,” he replied shortly, offering a small smile to Harris as he set a plate down in front of him.

“Derek thinks that waiting for inspiration to come to him will help him write his next book,” Cora replied, lifting an eyebrow at Derek as she sat Talia’s plate in front of her.

“Ah,” Talia nodded, taking the knife and fork offered to her. She focused on thinly cutting her steak for a moment before looking up at her son. “Does waiting usually work for you?”

Derek shrunk underneath Cora and Talia’s collective gaze and focused on cutting his own steak. He would never vocalize the thought, but sometimes he wondered if Cora was Paige’s twin with the way she acted toward him. Then again, after living with each other for a year, the two were more like brother and sister than boss and worker. He cleared his throat, shooting a glare at Cora as she opened her mouth to speak. “Sometimes.”

A hand landed on Derek’s and he looked up to find his mother smiling at him. She rubbed his hand with gentle fingertips and he glanced down at them, noticing how frail her hand was getting. He felt his heart sink, but managed a reassuring smile as he turned over his hand to wrap it around hers.

“You’ll figure it out, sweetie,” Talia murmured.

Derek nodded, although he didn't quite believe her. “I will.”

* * *

After dinner, Cora took Talia for a walk through the garden, pushing the wheelchair at a leisurely pace over the smooth cobblestone walkways. Derek had specially designed the garden for his mother, having the landscaper plant all of his mother’s favorites -- from the large olive and cherry trees to the sprawling hydrangeas and carolina allspice. Although she couldn’t see well, she could still smell the flowers and hear the rush of the waterfall Derek had installed in the inground pool. The soft trickle of rushing water always worked to calm his mother’s nerves and it was the best way for her to relax before going to sleep.

Meeting them by the pool, Derek stooped down in front of his mom and grabbed her hands in his, watching as she closed her eyes. She breathed deeply and relaxed against the back of the wheelchair, sitting silently and listening to the water. Derek wanted so badly to take her out of this wheelchair, to help her to her feet and see her walk again. He wished it didn’t have to be this way.

“It’s time for bed,” Cora uttered softly.

Talia breathed in deeply and nodded, squeezing Derek’s hands. Derek pressed a kiss to her knuckles before getting to his feet and following them back inside. He helped Cora put his mother to bed, lifting her out of the wheelchair while Cora pulled back the sheets. He set her down carefully, Cora working to straighten out her legs and help her into a comfortable position.

Derek smiled down at his mother, pushing hair out of her face. “Sweet dreams, mom.”

Talia smiled, bringing a hand up to his face. She let her thumb drift over his stubbled cheek. “I love you, Derek.”

“I love you too, mom,” he replied, putting his hand over hers and closing his eyes. When he opened them again, her eyes had already drifted closed and he frowned, kissing her hand before laying it gently on the bed. He tucked her in and exchanged a look with Cora, who was busy changing Talia’s catheter. He remembered vividly what life was like when he had been the one changing her catheter and bedpan as a kid.

He frowned and left the room, needing to be free of those memories for the time being. Seeing his mother like that had never gotten any easier and he wasn’t sure it ever would. Grabbing a pen and notebook from his office, he went into the living room and sat down on the couch.

Cora joined him moments later, popping a movie into the Bluray player and sitting down next to him. She curled her feet underneath her and leaned into his side, resting her head on his shoulder as she pulled out her phone and waited for the movie to load.

“You’re good with her,” Derek muttered, startling her from her messages.

She glanced up at him, searching his expression, and frowned. “You are too, you know.” She smiled sadly and nudged him. “She’s lucky to have a son who cares so much.”

Derek chuckled, a sad smile pulling at his lips. “She’s lucky to have a nurse who cares so much and actually knows what she’s doing.”

“Hey,” she chastised, pushing off him and fixing him with a glare. “Come on, no feeling sorry for yourself. You did the best you could when you were younger and you caught on pretty quickly when I started working here.”

“That’s because you weren’t the first RN I hired,” he argued, grinning at her. “Just the first one with the patience to actually teach me.”

She rolled her eyes and dodged him when he went to mess with her hair. “Yeah, yeah. That’s only because I didn’t want you making a mess with the bedpan-”

“That was one time,” he scoffed.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “It shouldn’t have happened at all.”

“You were watching me, it made me nervous!” he justified.

She snorted and rolled her eyes, glancing back down at her phone. “Whatever. Either way, it hasn’t happened since. Still, I wouldn’t quit your day job.”

Derek frowned, glancing down at the notebook in his hands. He might just have to quit his day job anyway.

“Oh, no,” she sighed, stealing the notebook and pen from him and throwing them onto the coffee table. “I told you, no feeling sorry for yourself. Your mom is right, Der, you’ll figure out your next story. Don’t be so hard on yourself. When you do that, you overthink everything. Don’t overthink it, just...do it.”

Derek sat in silence, watching the beginning credits appear on the screen as Cora settled down next to him. He let her cuddle into his side, putting his arm around her automatically. These moments reminded him so much of Paige sometimes, but he knew Cora was missing her own siblings, who lived all the way in Virginia, and she only got to see them a few times a year. He could never deny her some sibling bonding, even though they weren’t technically siblings. Besides, he needed this just as much as she did. His mom was really the only person he had left and he couldn’t really do things like this with her anymore.

He sighed and pulled Cora a little closer, resting his head on hers as they watched the movie together. Maybe Cora was right. Maybe he just needed to get out of his head and write something. But he needed it to be good, great even. He didn’t want to let his mom down.

**Author's Note:**

> Holy sweet mother of wow. I'm finally done with this chapter. This took me a good 12 hours altogether to write...
> 
> This is a story I've been planning for a little under a year now and I'm so happy to be able to finally share it with you! There's a lot of drama, feels, and tragedy mixed up in this story, so I hope you stick around for the ride! :)


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